Stuck in the Middle of Things
by Shellie Williams
Summary: Tim and Tony, lost and alone in the woods, running for their lives.


**Stuck In The Middle Of Things**

**~Written for the In Media Res Challenge~**

Shellie Williams

**Rating:** FR13. The story begins in the middle of the action, as the challenge requires.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.  
**Summary:** Tim and Tony, lost and alone in the woods, running for their lives.

At about the same time that Tony realized exactly what he was looking at, five huge men with long ZZ Top beards and even longer guns stepped out from behind the trees. He lifted his hands in surrender.

"Wait a minute, fellows, we aren't here for your stash - in fact, what stash? I don't see anything. We're here strictly for Petty Officer Childress - that's all! Wait, you don't have to do that. We'll just turn around and -"

"Tony, look out!" McGee dove for Tony, grunting when they collided and fell to the ground. Things didn't happen one after the other; there was no way you could list the events in order from first to last. Instead, things happened in a layer, one building on top of the other, like a sandwich, and then squished together in a conglomeration of confusion.

At the same time that McGee tackled Tony, one of the guns went off and the bullet that was aimed squarely for Tony's chest sliced through McGee's upper arm, instead. Tony scrambled, struggling to pull himself out from under Tim, calling to him, and reaching for his gun. Stiff with pain, Tim attempted to get out of the way while drawing his weapon. But his fingers wouldn't cooperate and the fire blazing through his arm wouldn't let him think. As a result, neither of them were ready when the five men surrounded them in one tall, hairy circle.

Tony looked up and saw the ring of heads above. Winded, he grinned disarmingly. "Any way we could talk about this?" One answered by slamming the butt of his rifle across Tim's temple. The younger man collapsed on top of Tony. "Hey! You didn't have to -" A violent blast of pain against his head silenced him, and Tony flopped to the ground, arms spread out on either side.

One of the men grunted. "Stupid Fed. As if we'd believe he would walk away from this."

"Who's Petty Officer Childress?" another asked.

The first speaker shrugged. "Hell if I know. Carl, you and Milt grab these two, take 'em back to the barn and tie 'em up."

"Dang, Aaron, the big one probably weighs nearly two hundred pounds. I can't -" He flinched when Aaron drew back his fist, but the blow didn't come.

"Quit your belly achin' and do like I told you - I've seen you lift two, hundred pound bags of feed to your shoulders without breakin' a sweat. You get the skinny one; one little ol' Fed ain't gonna break your back."

Milton grunted, handed his gun off to one of the others, then reached for McGee. He clawed thick, beefy fingers into the front of McGee's jacket, jerked him from the ground and slung him over his shoulder. Carl did the same with Tony, stumbled a little beneath his weight, then found his footing and followed Milton through the trees to the distant barn.

They dumped their burdens unceremoniously to the ground. Carl found some rope and they quickly had McGee's and Tony's hands tied behind their backs and their ankles bound. Standing, Milton nudged Tony with his foot. Tony didn't respond. Satisfied, Milton and Carl left.

The barn was quiet. Dust, disturbed by the drug growers, danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing between slats in the walls. The warm smell of earth and hay permeated the air, laced with the more pungent and bitter odor of marijuana. On the ground, Tony rolled slowly to his side and groaned. He blinked his eyes open and shook his head, then grimaced when pain ricocheted through his skull. "McGee?" A quick look around revealed McGee close by. When he didn't answer, Tony used his feet to maneuver around. With much grunting and swearing, and a thick layering of dirt, Tony finally worked himself around to face McGee.

The sharp retort prepared on the tip of his tongue died away when he got a good look at his partner. Forehead pressed to the ground, the wound on his temple had bleed out enough to soak an alarmingly large area of dirt. That, coupled with the dark and wet sleeve molded to his right arm, didn't bode well for the Probie.

"Tim!" When McGee didn't respond, Tony shifted closer. How to wake him? With his hands behind his back and his feet tied together, his choices were greatly reduced. He leaned in close and bumped his nose against McGee's chin. _Ouch!_ Okay, that wasn't the best idea. What else? Tony shifted closer until their chests were nearly touching, then tucked in next to Tim's ear and whispered, "McGee! Wake up!"

"What are you doing?"

Tony yelped and jerked back in surprise. "You're awake!"

Tim's eyes remained closed, but a frown of pain wrinkled his forehead. "Why were you whispering in my ear?"

"Because I needed you to wake up. How's your arm?"

"Hurts."

"That's understandable. Okay, listen, we need to get out of here before Larry, Darryl and Darryl come back. I'm going to get around behind you and I want you to get my knife. It's in my belt buckle. Can you do that?"

Eyes still closed, Tim's head rocked in a slight nod against the ground.

"Tim, you with me, buddy?"

"Yeah, Tony. Just hurry."

Worried with the tremulous sound of Tim's voice, but deciding not to draw attention to it, Tony began the arduous task of working his way back around behind Tim. His movements caused dust clouds to build around them and by the time he shifted into the correct position, both of them were coughing and covered in a thin, brown layer of filth. He lay still for a minute to get his breath back and to allow the dust to settle a little.

"Okay. Ready?" Tony arched his back and pushed toward Tim. Fingers groped blindly and Tony jerked back with a growl. "You're a little south, McBlind - watch what you're doing."

"How am I supposed to watch what I'm doing when I can't see you?"

"Just - be careful. I'm saving myself for someone special, you know." Tentatively, Tony moved forward again. Immediately, Tim's fingers latched onto his belt. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay - there's a release mechanism just under the buckle - feel it? Push that - yeah, that's it. You got it." When he felt the blade slide out, Tony pulled away. He glanced down and saw the small weapon in Tim's hand. "Hold it steady. I'm going to turn around and cut my ropes."

Grunting, he managed to roll to his other side, then backed up to Tim. It didn't take long to line his ropes up with the knife, and with several minutes of a back and forth motion, his wrists were soon free. Gleefully, he grabbed the knife, pulled his arms around front, and got to work on his ankles. Finished, he knelt behind McGee and cut his ropes. Tim's movements were slow as he shifted his arms back around to the front. He groaned when he moved his right arm.

Tony jumped over him and knelt in front. "Can you stand?" He waited until Tim began pushing himself up, then slipped his arms through Tim's armpits and pulled. They both stood, but Tim stumbled and fell heavily into Tony. With a low groan, Tony held him close, struggling to find his balance. "Whoa there, Fred Astaire - let me lead." He felt the shift in weight when Tim found his feet. Hands gripping McGee's shoulders, he pulled away, holding on when Tim swayed drunkenly. "Don't faint now, McGee, we're almost home free."

"Little girls faint - guys pass out."

Tim's voice sounded petulant and worrisomely young to Tony. He adjusted his arm around McGee and reached into his pocket with his free hand. "Yeah, well don't pass out, either." He found what he wanted and grinned. Carefully, he took McGee to a wall and propped him there. A loose board hung barely connected by a nail. Tony grabbed it and twisted a little, disconnecting it the rest of the way from the wall. He left it where it was, then worked on the boards on either side of it. Soon he'd made an opening large enough for them to slide through. He patted McGee's uninjured shoulder. "Stay here; I'll be right back." He waited a second, making sure Tim wouldn't keel over, then hurried to another corner of the barn where several piles of marijuana lay curing. Bending down, he stacked several dried plants on top of one another and held a lighter beneath them. Smoke began billowing quickly from the material. Slipping the lighter into his pocket, he hurried back to McGee.

Tim glanced up and seemed to notice the smoke for the first time. "Did you start a fire?"

"Uh-huh." Tony pushed against his shoulder gently, shoving him carefully through the opening in the wall. "Whatever you do, don't inhale."

They barely fit through the opening. Tony braced his arm around McGee's waist and set a quick pace from the barn. Tim stumbled beside him, his knees attempting to fold beneath him. Lips rolled in against his teeth, Tony grimaced and kept going.

Panicked shouting sounded behind him, and Tony caught the distant crackle of a growing fire. Grabbing the wrist at his shoulder where Tim's arm slung across the back of his neck, he hung on tight and hastened their gait.

A billowing roar, though distant, was clearly heard: "I'm gonna _kill_ you, Fed!"

"No," Tony mumbled to himself, "don't worry about us - just stay there and try to save your stash." Whether his suggestion was followed or not, Tony didn't look back to find out. Releasing McGee's wrist, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Luckily, the Neanderthals who'd surprised them hadn't thought to search their pockets; they'd only taken their weapons. Thumbing speed dial, he tried to call Gibbs, but the display quickly informed him he didn't have enough signal for the call to go through. Growling, Tony kept the phone open in his hand on the off chance that Abby might be tracking them and concentrated on putting as much distance between them and the maniac growers as possible.

High overgrowth slowed them down. Sweat rolled down Tony's back and his breathing heaved noisily through his lungs. He doubted Tim was even aware anymore of his surroundings. His head hung low between his shoulders. He no longer held his injured arm tight against his chest; it swung loose at his side. Tony hitched him up against his hip, eliciting a soft groan with the movement.

"Sorry, Tim. Hang in there, Probie."

Too breathless to say more, Tony felt his strength waning. Suddenly, McGee's knees buckled and he went down, dragging Tony with him. Unprepared and nearly spent, Tony fell helplessly to his knees beside McGee. He lay there, pulling air into aching lungs, determined to get right back up and keep running. Pulling the phone close so he could see, he squinted and blinked, surprised to see one bar shining on the screen. Hope filled him and he sat up quickly, dialing Gibbs' number.

Faintly, through static, he thought he heard his Boss' voice.

"Gibbs! We ran into some trouble. We need back up! Gibbs! Can you hear me?" A crackling signal was his only answer. _Damn it! So close!_

"Which way did they go?"

A voice only a few yards away had Tony diving to the ground, covering his partner. This was _not_ happening to him! How could he die, unarmed, in a gunfight with the cast of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman with no backup? Just a simple, follow-up questioning assignment and he and Tim find themselves smack dab in the middle of some hillbilly's marijuana patch. When had the universe slipped off its axis?

"Aaron, over here!" The shout was right above him. Slowly, Tony turned his head only to look straight into a rifle barrel. Milton grinned at him, revealing filthy, tobacco stained teeth.

"You don't want to do this, Milt." Tony let go of the phone, leaving it open on the ground. He hoped Milton hadn't seen it and kept talking to distract him. "Killing a Federal Agent will surely get your stash discovered. This area will be swarming with Agents before nightfall, looking for the two of us. Why don't you just let us walk away from this? We'll forget about this place, leave you fine folks alone, and you boys can go back to your happy gardening and never worry about being bothered again."

"You forgot one thing," Aaron joined Milton, cocking his gun and pointing it at Tony. "You just burned our whole crop. We got nothing to protect now, and nothing to give our suppliers. They're gonna want payment, so we're gonna give 'em you."

Tony held up his hands as they moved closer but a familiar voice froze them all in their tracks.

"I wouldn't take another step if I were you." _Ziva!_ Tony swore he heard hero music playing in the background.

Aaron shifted, but from behind him, Gibbs warned, "I'd listen to her if I were you." Behind him, three State Troopers moved in and surrounded Aaron and the others. "Tony, you and McGee okay?"

"McGee's been shot and the big guy there gave both of us a headache the hard way." He reached up to touch the tender knot on his head.

"Ziva, tell the paramedics we need them." Gibbs holstered his gun and knelt in front of Tony. He touched his forehead and looked into his eyes, checking his pupils. "You want to tell me how you turned a simple follow-up job into a major drug bust?" Satisfied with Tony's condition, Gibbs moved to McGee. Tim tried to sit up, but Gibbs pressed his hand flat against his chest and shook his head. "Don't move." When he saw the gunshot wound he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bandana, then pressed it to McGee's arm. He touched McGee's chin and gently tilted his head back, studying the wound across his temple.

"It's McGee's fault." Tony shrunk back when Gibbs' turned a glare his way. "He was co-pilot; he was the one giving directions."

"And which one of you is the senior agent?"

Chagrinned, Tony lowered his eyes. "I am." He gave a little shrug with one shoulder. "You're right, Boss. It's my fault."

Gibbs shook his head. "No one's fault; you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He pushed up from the ground and stood.

"Actually, Agent Gibbs, they were in the right place at the right time." A State Trooper walked up to join them. He dipped his head at Tony and continued, "We've been looking for Aaron Reinhold's stash for nearly two years now. He and his brothers know these woods like the rest of us know our neighborhood; they were raised here. You've just saved us a lot of man hours and resources, Agent Gibbs, and we're mighty grateful." He offered his hand. Gibbs shook it and watched him walk away. Two paramedics passed him on their way to Tony and McGee. They knelt and began assessing their patients.

Tony grinned as the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm tightened. "Yep, this is my fault, Boss. I take full credit."

**The End**


End file.
